To Belong

In my last post, Silence is Revealing, I told about how being silent has helped me to see that one of the things I’ve always wanted was to be heard. But I think it goes deeper still. I think I wanted, and want, to belong. I wanted someone around me to care that I was there. I longed to be longed for, cared about and to have someone notice and be pleased when they saw me enter a room.

This isn’t something I’ve experienced much. In fact, most of the time when I walked into a room with those who were abusive, even though there were ties that should have made us beyond close, it was more like disappointment, wishing I wasn’t there and waiting for the moment I would leave. That is very disheartening and I didn’t (and still don’t) understand it. Every time it happened, I believed I was unlovable. I understood that I meant nothing and my life would never really matter because no one would ever really know the person I knew myself to be. I was indelibly who they saw me to be. There was nothing I could do to change it.

A Basket of Bread

There were so many times I tried to change their thoughts, but nothing would make a difference. I remember trying to do special things to get them to see me differently. One time I remember we were going to dinner at one of their houses. I was going to bring the bread. I looked through cookbooks to find a really special bread to make it special for them. I ended up making these rolls that, when put together, looked like a dove. I was so excited at how well they turned out and was hoping that the people would enjoy them. When we were sitting at the table and it was time for the bread to be passed around, I waited with anticipation as to how they would be received. The first person opened the cloth cover, pulled one out, looked at it from different angles, gave a peculiar look and passed the basket on. Not one person said anything. No one. I had worked hard on these and put so much love into them and no one seemed to like them at all. They ate them with no problem, but it was like I had done nothing. Others were complimented for their contribution, but the rolls were ignored like they weren’t even there. I was heartbroken and never said a word about it, but I held the feeling and the rejection in my heart. It was just one more sign that I was not worth the effort it took to acknowledge what I did from my heart. I simply didn’t matter and never would.

I know that sounds like a lot to put on a batch of rolls, but that was just one example. Similar things happened at other times and comments were made quite often. I stopped trying to change their minds because, I finally understood, I never could. It probably wouldn’t have made as much of an impact that these people didn’t like me except that there were others. I’d had a lifetime of at least one person speaking these horrible thoughts into my life and sharing it with others. I felt I was constantly being told I was someone I didn’t recognize because what I was accused of had never even entered my mind.

To Belong

I was never able to come to terms with who I was. So many times, I have been described and accused of being someone I couldn’t recognize. Try to imagine, if you can, living a life with thoughts, feelings, beliefs and hopes, but being told you weren’t thinking that at all. You were, instead, only thinking of yourself and wanting horrible things for others. You can’t even recognize this person they are describing and have never thought the thoughts they’re accusing you of, but they refuse to see you any other way.

It’s like living in a prison and the guard hands you a key ring with 200 different keys on it. He tells you that if you can unlock the lock with the first key you try, you can be free. However, if you can’t, another one will be added every time you get one wrong. That’s what abusers offer: they want you to believe they’re doing something for your good, but they’re actually ensnaring you more. There is no freedom in abuse and the only way to belong is to lose more of yourself.

~ Joanna Lynn